


Becoming the Disciple

by Eww22



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eww22/pseuds/Eww22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon that before the Disciple met the Signless she was a ‘lady’ instead of the wild hunting feline her descendant is, being more of a house cat until she met the Signless and fell in love with the stories and lessons he told and preached. So she began to write down his words and follow him around because she thought that it was exciting more exciting than her current home life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming the Disciple

**Author's Note:**

> One of my headcanons that I drew first and then wanted to write a story about. :) 
> 
> http://ewwstuff.tumblr.com/post/112169885612/finished-coloring-the-disciple-woooh-that-was#notes

Before him you could say that your life was relaxing and pleasant, not that you weren't happy after you met him, but you used to be very laid back. You had been showered with gifts from various suitors that wanted in your quadrants, most of which were a couple hues higher than yourself. At the time the Grand Highblood himself was trying to court you himself and you were quite content reaping the benefits of the nice hive he gifted you, as well as a few rust blood servants who would wait on you hand and foot all for him to try and get into your flushed quadrant.  
You were groomed daily, you were fed the finest foods, you were loved by most you met, respected by people you didn't even know, and you were pampered beyond what was common for one of your blood cast, but you were bored. Getting your hair brushed and nails manicured wasn't as fun as it used to be. It was nice going to parties and it was neat getting new clothes all the time, but there was no excitement in your life. Nothing made your heart pump faster and your blood race, nothing to make you motivated in the city you had called your home. You were bored and perhaps that's why you had been so drawn to him.

It was the dark season when you first laid eyes upon him. Colder than the handmaids heart while clouds that had been lined with the vibrant colors double moons light shown suspiciously over head. You were bundled in the white tailored hopbeast pelt coat while a rust blood servant followed at your heels, never daring to step ahead of you while carrying bags of items that had been gifted to you by the purple blood after your date. You had been minding your own business when your sensitive ears picked up the distant sound of someone talking.  
Usually you didn't really pay attention to public disputes, not really one for huge street spectacles, but for some reason the deep rumbling voice drew you in.

He stood on a wooden crate, too short to look over the small crowd any other way. A cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, pitiful nubby horns poking out of his hood while hilariously hideous leggings strode up to his chest. His voice loud and booming, but enticing and drawing more and more people towards him by the minute. You came in to the middle of his speech, but from the look of the battered mustard blood who currently had a swollen eye and a busted lip that leaned heavily against a jade blood at his feet, you guess it had to do something with him.  
He spoke of the cruelty of the city, pointed out people who didn't help when the mustard was mugged and simply stood back and watched. He asked questions, asked why and wanted to know why no one stopped to help. He began to tell the story of another world, one that wouldn't have allowed this to happen. A world that was peaceful and who's inhabitants took care of the weak and looked out for one another. The cloaked figure emphasized each word with his hands, as if he could paint the picture in the space around him and show the crowd just what he was talking about with his invisible work of art. You had never known why, but during that time a few tears had begun to stream down your cheeks. Your heart throbbed and ached as if you had been listening to a long forgotten fond memory that you missed dearly. You held on to every word and when he began to speak of how things could change and things could be like that other world the city drones came and he and the jadeblood who had been cradling the mustard ran, taking the beaten troll with them.

You looked for them again after that, but you gave up and began with your old daily life once again after a few perigees. Although you had never forgotten or more like you were unable to. His words had stuck in your head and eventually the only thing you could do is take a journal and write down all that you remembered, hoping that it would ease from your mind if you actually got it out on something else. It only made the craving worse.

Dark season was on it's last wisp of breath the next time you finally found him again, though that time the mustard blood stood guard beside him, holding his head up high and strong while daring anyone to come near and threaten to interrupt the shorter troll. The cloaked figure spoke of his travels instead of the other world this time. Telling stories about how others had helped one another and how even the highest of the high could need help from even he lowest of the low. Saying how easy it would be to achieve the other world if everyone would stop looking at blood color and instead looking at the person. His stories of equality and adventures captivated you, you envied the tales and your heart longed for what he had. You went home and wrote everything down again, this time not wanting it to ever leave your memories.  
The next time you see him he has more to preach and all new material, it's like this guy can never retell a lesson once. You start carrying your book around with you so the next time you see him you can write everything down as it comes.  
You manage to find out which locations he holds his sermons and you attend every single one. It becomes a religious thing for you. It feels right, like a new purpose in life has opened up for you at last. You were hatched to write his words down on paper, so that someday his visions would change the world. You feel like just being around him and listening you have gained more wisdom and freedom in a single perigee than you had in the last 9 sweeps of your life.

The first time you talk to him, you're in tears. The Grand highblood who had began to become annoyed with his ignored advances had confronted you and found you mesmerized with your book. He had taken it forcefully from you and after reading the few paragraphs on random flipped through pages became enraged and began to tear it apart. You had tried to defend your precious book only to make matters worse when you sliced his mouth open, leaving deep stitch looking gouges in his lips from your claws, causing him to turn on you. If it hadn't been to your beloved faithful lusus you wouldn't have made it out alive. Your book was in tatters, most of the pages ruined and the biding wasn't holding together anymore. You cried profusely and you somehow ended up in his warm embrace while you apologized for allowing the things you've recorded get destroyed even though he more than likely didn't know you were recording them in the first place.  
He cleaned you up, allowing you to blow your nose on his worn cloak, before comforting you and offering to assist you in creating a whole new book, even offering you protection in what ever way possible since it was obvious that you couldn't stay in the city any longer without being in danger of being harmed by the grand highblood. You left with him that night and had been with him to the very end, and even when you were alone living in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on your back and your memories of him written on the walls of your cave you never regretted it.  
Leaving luxury was the best decision you had ever made, and if you could do it all over you would have tried to cripple the Grand highblood by going for his eyes instead.


End file.
